Abby In Charge
by E Salvatore
Summary: Callen' and Kensi's twins, Emilia and Henry, somehow end up with Abby as their last-minute nanny. This is not going to end well. Set in my THTOYL AU. Round Three of my SWB Initiative.


**ABBY IN CHARGE**

**Callen' and Kensi's twins, Emilia and Henry, somehow end up with Abby as their last-minute nanny. This is **_**not **_**going to end well. Set in my **_**THTOYL **_**AU. Round Three of my SWB Initiative.**

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, we need to go in today?"<p>

"Sorry, Callen." Eric Beale sounds apologetic, sounding quite put out by the situation himself. "I know you've got everyone around and it was supposed to be your day off, but we got a hit on Shaw today and Hetty wants it done now. You, Kensi, Sam. All three of you need to get in now."

He sighs, tired, irritated and defeated, because they've been chasing Shaw for what seems like an eternity now and if they don't do this today, they probably won't see him for another six months. Across the room, his wife rises from the ground and crosses the space in five quick strides, taking the phone from his hand.

"What do we do with the twins, Eric?" She questions, hoping to reason with Hetty via Eric. She keeps her eyes on Callen, doing 'that freaky mind-meld thing' Abby has repeatedly accused them of. Just a short distance away, said twins are happily playing with their toys, basking in the sunlight.

"I, ah… you guys can just leave them with her. I mean, it's not gonna be that long." The technician stutters, knowing, even as he suggests this, that it is a bad idea.

"Leave our kids with an overgrown kid?" Kensi hisses in a low whisper. Callen's eyes widen as he reflexively glances to check if the 'overgrown kid' has picked up on their conversation. Judging by the rapid-motion of her swinging braids, she hasn't.

"You guys, this is big." Eric whines and Kensi huffs, knowing she's fighting a losing battle. One look at Callen and she knows: this is how it's going to be. She's leaving her precious babies to their (probably incapable) godmother.

"We'll be there in fifteen." Callen ends the call once Kensi wordlessly hands him the phone. Together, they observe the scene in front of them. Reluctantly, they get closer and prepare themselves. Barely a minute ticks by before their houseguest looks up inquisitively.

Callen clears his throat audibly, his blue eyes darting around. Kensi steels herself and decides to just get it done with.

"Abby, we need a favor…"

* * *

><p>"We are going to have so much fun!" Abby squeals the minute Callen and Kensi leave. Two clueless infants stare at her, their big eyes – two blue and two brown – so much like their parents'. An excited streak scoops both of them up as she hurtles around the house; Hurricane Abigail is, to the children, a sudden, unforeseen disaster.<p>

It takes all of two minutes for them to be rushed back into the playroom and dropped into their cribs. "Oops," Abby grins sheepishly. "We might need some supplies."

The twins, who are just learning to talk, eye each other as their beloved godmother speeds away.

"Oops!" Emmy giggles.

"Oops." Henry agrees, and they promptly keep themselves entertained with this one, comical word as Abby prepares for a day out. Their childlike mind is simple and this funny word and the way it tumbles out of their baby mouths has them gurgling with laughter.

When Abby finally does get in, a huge baby-bag adorned with childish renditions of skulls on her arm, she's panting and grinning, and in the twins' opinions, quite oops-worthy. The bag chooses that very moment to spring open, revealing candy, candy and empty flasks for a Caf-Pow! stop.

As their godmother hurries to stuff everything back into the carrier, the infants turn to each other and burst out laughing.

"Oops!"

* * *

><p>"Okay, so it might be chilly. But don't worry – Abby to the rescue!" She triumphantly pulls out two miniature umbrellas and hands them to her clueless charges. They eye her with wide baby blues and browns, puzzled yet entertained.<p>

"Silly me," Abby smiles, fixing the situation by sticking the holders in two very small, very chubby and very cute fists.

"There," She beams, gratified. "All fixed."

When a particularly strong gust of wind hits them, she drops everything to get a hold on the two swaying children who just might fly away.

"Okay," She pants just five minutes after leaving the safety of Callen's place. "Time for a Caf-Pow! break."

"Pow!" The small ones giggle, having found a new word to entertain themselves with.

"Yes, Pow." Abby smiles, righting herself and gripping one chubby fist in each hand as they tumble along. "None for you two. Your mama would kill me."

"Pow pow pow!"

"Okay, fine."

* * *

><p>"Abby, we're kinda in the middle of something!"<p>

Kensi rips the phone out of her husband's hand; maternal instincts prove stronger than basic survival instincts. "Abby, are they okay?" She blurts rapidly, words tumbling out of her mouth. "Did something happen? Emmy can't walk properly yet, so I think she might- and Henry, he-"

"Woah, slow down. They're fine. I just had to ask you something."

"They're fine?" Kensi sighs, relived. They're fine. Of course they are. She's overreacting, as usual. Callen eyes her with a tiny hint of light teasing; her extreme maternal instincts have been ridiculed… repeatedly… by everyone.

"Yeah, the little munchkins are great." Abby reassures her. She can make out the faintest trace of squeals in the background, though, and so she questions them.

"Abby… is that… Henry?" Henry is her quiet baby – her mini-Callen. Emmy is the happy, squealing baby, not Henry – never Henry.

"Ah, about that," Abby laughs, and it sounds nervous. Abby is never nervous and so Kensi finds herself worrying again. "Funny story, see, but I just wanna know… how long does a caffeine high last for Henry? Usually?"

There's a beat of silence while she struggles to compose herself. She fails miserably.

"You… gave… my baby… _caffeine?_"

Kensi's shrieks ring out in the ears of every one of their team members, and miles away , back in their headquarters, Eric Beale winces.

What has Abby done this time?

* * *

><p>It starts raining a few minutes after she successfully cajoles Henry away from the playground and so they rush into the nearest mall, to Abby's great delight.<p>

"I am going to spoil you two rotten!"

It takes all of two minutes for her to be running around the mall in her platforms, chasing after two very energetic – and suddenly, very sure of their own feet – young kids as they explore foreign grounds. It's a child's dream come true, and they're not going to waste even one minute of it.

"Pow!" Quiet Henry – as he'd been dubbed weeks after his birth – squeals, and along with his twin sister, they head straight for the bright Christmas displays and get lost in the festivities.

Stumped, it takes their godmother a good sixty seconds to figure out that she should just follow the teeny, tiny shrieks of 'Oops!' and 'Pow!'.

When a flash of purple peeks out from the red-and-green decorations, she knows she's found them. With a triumphant 'Aha!', she pulls lightly on the fabric, hoping not to rip it. Two blue eyes and brunette curls greet her.

"Oh, shit." She mutters, holding Emmy close for safekeeping. "Where's your brother?"

Little Emilia shrugs her tiny shoulders.

"Shit, shit, shit," She sings innocently in her high, childish voice.

Abby's day can't possibly get any worse.

… Can it?

* * *

><p>"Arghhhhh!"<p>

Apparently, it can – and does.

Get worse, that is.

"Henry, please, please, please stop pulling Abby's hair. It's hurting Abby." She's referring to herself in the third person and that is _not _cool, but she doesn't really care anymore. Emilia is tugging on her leg while Henry – who's run himself _out _– is in her arms, his little legs dangling limply. In both of their hands are ice-creams, melting, gooey messes that they're getting all over themselves… and her.

"Abby! Abbyyy!" Emmy whines insistently, pulling at her leg. Abby tugs a clump of her hair free from Henry's tiny fist – for the eight time – before focusing on the other tiny terror.

"Yes, Thing Two?"

"Want… home." She uses great concentration to string together these two words, her eyebrows scrunched up. Little Emilia hasn't realized that only her parents speak Emmy-talk, and so she stares at Abby with her wide, pleading eyes.

"Home." She repeats simply.

"Do you want to go home?" Abby asks gently, kneeling down to the girl's height. Emmy nods mutely as Henry clambers down to stand next to his sister, ice-creams forgotten as they settle on a new plan.

Sweet singing angels of Heaven, Abby wants to leap for joy right now.

"Home it is."

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, that is easier said than done and it takes a while for Abby to realize that merely getting home might take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour; it depends on how many stops the twins decide to make as they head home.<p>

"Abbyyy! Here!"

_Here we go again_, Abby sighs and prepares herself for a tantrum.

"No, Emmy," She says gently, her eyes wide. In her other arm, Henry sleeps away, oblivious to the late afternoon crowd. "Your brother's sleeping, and we need to get home. You wanted to go home, right?"

"No!" Emmy shakes her head and shrieks petulantly. "Want doll."

It's not a doll, per say; more like a blow-up doll. But she's not even touching that subject. And really, how did they end up here? Abby doesn't want to admit this but they might be lost.

"Abby brought you lots of dolls." She promises her goddaughter. "They're all at home, and if we go there now, we can play with them before Mommy and Daddy get home?" She turns the last few words into a question.

"A lot?" Emmy's eyes light up.

"A lot." Abby nods. Satisfied with this, the little girl goes back to resting against Abby, her eyes fluttering close.

Okay.

Time to call a cab.

Simple.

* * *

><p>"Emmy!" <em>I'm going to kill you<em>! She tacks on in her mind. She loves her little godchildren, she really does, but God, Callen and Kensi produced monsters! Little tiny terrors! Things One and Two!

"Henry, please sit still."

"HUNGRY!" Thing One roars, and okay, it's adorable. But she's tired and sore and exhausted and really, really close to letting out a roar of her own.

Note to self: Caf-Pow! should not be given to charges under the age of 18. Ever. On pain of death.

"Pow!" Henry giggles to himself, banging his fists against the cool surface of his feeding chair.

His sister, who sits a short distance away in a chair of her own, turns to him and shares her own word of the day – the day with Abby has been educational. "Shit, shit, shit!" She sings again in her baby voice, and before long Abby's search for food is accompanied by a chorus of 'shit, shit, shit'.

Trying to tell them off, she makes a quick retreat from the pantry, banging her head against an open… something. It hurts.

"Shit," She mutters to herself, figuring that it won't do any more harm.

The tiny devils look at each other in a way that is almost comical before they start gurgling with childish laughter.

"Oops!"

Callen and Kensi are going to _kill _her.

* * *

><p>Later that night, when an exhausted Callen and a worried Kensi finally get home, they slowly open the front door only to be greeted by dark silence. Callen soothes his wife by wrapping one arm around her waist before guiding her to the twins' room.<p>

They pad up the stairs, flicking on lights as they go, retracing pre-mapped paths they take at night when they don't want to run the risk of waking the children. It takes forever for them to reach the hallway, where the muted light of the decorative light fixtures in the nursery floods the hallway in a soft glow.

Ever so slowly, they enter the room to find their two precious children asleep in their own cribs, their little forms curled up as they sleep, exhaustion evident in the deep slumber they are in.

Kensi leans into Callen's touch, finally at ease. As they prepare to softly pad outside and search for Abby, Callen halts suddenly, bringing them both to a stop. Upon spotting Kensi's questioning glance, he nods in the general direction of the soft rug they'd placed in the nursery a few months ago.

And there, on the soft rug she herself had bought for them - deeply asleep -, lies a completely spent Abby.

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><p><strong>What can I say? It's good to be back, and not only in this AU, but the fandom. I've really missed all of you wonderful CaKe people and here's to a new beginning. With the bunnies' recent return from London, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for quite a few CaKe fics.<strong>

**To encourage the bunnies and make them hop, hop, hop (which is how ideas are born, if you don't know these bunnies), make sure you share your thoughts via review or PM. If you'd like to play, come on over to BunnyLand, a new forum on this very site where the bunnies roam free. For more information the SWBI, make sure you hit up my homepage and Twitter.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**December 2011.**_

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><p><strong>The Screw Writer's Block Initiative (SWB Initiative) is open to everyone – and I mean everyone – who's ever won against writer's block. And if you're battling it right now…well, you've got perfect timing! Focus on a small plot bunny that just won't leave you alone and write a one-shot of your choice. Be sure to mention the Initiative or SWB Initiative. Come on, let's kick writer's block's a$$!<strong>


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